Bushism
by Sir Alwick
Summary: What is the secret to getting people to do what you want? Fire.


His snoring was epic. It was the kind of snoring that famous, dead writers wrote long, difficult to understand books about. The kind of snoring philosophers mused over and poets dedicated their entire lives to, working to create through the perfect use of meter and rhyme, a piece that properly evoked all the subtle emotions and whatever, who cares. It was Carl's snoring; it's where our story begins.

So, anyway Carl was snoring away, lying flat on his back in bed in his crappy house in Jersey, visions of strippers and barely legal farm animals dancing through his head. So far, life was good. Of course, this being Carl's life, this couldn't last for long.

Sure enough with a blinding flash a burning bush appeared in his room.

"Hear me and know me," it bellowed in a deep, otherworldly voice.

To that, Carl only snored.

A few uncomfortable seconds later, the bush spoke again.

"Hey!" It barked. "Hey, you there…in the skull, I'm talking to you."

Snoring was once again all the bush got for a response.

"Ah for crying out loud. HEY!"

"Wha-, what," Carl croaked groggily sitting up in bed.

"What do you mean who?" said the bush indignantly. "I'm the burning bush."

There was another uncomfortable pause.

"Okay," said Carl.

There was yet another interminable pause.

"You know from that book," said the bush. "They made a movie about it. You've seen it, right?"

"Uh no."

The bush was dejected.

"Oh," it said. "Well, I could go rent it if you want. Do you have time? We could watch it right now."

"No, no we won't be doing that," said Carl. "Say, while I got you hear slowly burning my house down, you mind telling me what the hell you want?"

"Oh well, you see I'm a burning bush and like you should go and do my bidding and stuff. So, like, go forth and whatever."

Carl said nothing.

"You know this is all explained on the movie,. You sure you don't have time?"

The door slammed shut and the bush found itself alone, looking at the exterior of Carl's blue house.

"Alright, well I'm just going to go get the movie," it called into the house. "I'll be back in a few."

* * *

"But I don't really want to jam a fork into my eyes," said the little ball of living hamburger known as Meatwad. "In this global economy, how am I supposed to know I won't need my eyes later?"

"Jeez, would you listen to yourself," snapped Master Shake, shaking a fondue fork at the meatball. "I can't believe you used to be the fun guy."

"I was?"

"Sure, you were always a blast at parties, all the movie stars wanted to be around you with their limousine's and fancy mixed drinks and what not, but now? I don't know."

"I can still be the fun guy," assured Meatwad with newfound conviction in his voice.

"I'd like to believe that. I really would," said Shake. "But see I was talking to my good buddy Ed Norton the other day and he says he just can't take you on any more skydiving tours unless you jam a fork into your eyes."

"For the Hulk, I can do anything," declared Meatwad bravely.

Without hesitation, Meatwad snatched up the fork in his meaty tentacle and jammed it soundly into his eyes.

"I did it," he said happily, seemingly not bothered at all. "When does Ed get here? I want to go skydiving."

"Well he's not coming," spat Shake, clearly upset at Meatwad's lack of pain. "He's not coming because you're a sellout and he doesn't associate with your kind. In fact I don't even want to associate with your kind. Why don't you go jump into a salad shooter or something?"

Shake's tirade ended with the entrance of everyone's favorite floating box of fries since Fry Pierce, Frylock.

"Shake, how many times do I have to tell you? he said harshly. "Don't make Meatwad to stick himself in the face with sharp objects. You know he doesn't feel a damn thing anyway."

"That's right," agreed Meatwad. "I have been emotionally dead inside ever since my wife had that miscarriage."

"Well, I had to do something to kill time since you were taking so damn long to make breakfast," whined Shake angrily. "Are you going to start frying up my eggs and bacon or do I have to get the authorities involved?"

"It's noon, Shake."

"Oh no! I've missed the most important meal of the day. Now I'll never be a star athlete-"

A knock at the door brought the group's stupid conversation to a halt. After a period of silence and the food products staring at one another, Frylock began making his way to the door.

"That's right," Shake said triumphantly.

When Frylock opened the door, he was only mildly surprised to find a burning bush sitting on the doorstep.

"Hi, I'd like to rent a movie," it said.

"What?" replied Frylock in confusion.

"I've got this friend whom I want to do my bidding, but he's not going to understand unless he sees the movie."

"And who are you?" said Frylock, arching an eyebrow.

"I'm the burning bush. You know from that book. They made a movie about it."

Frylock hovered in silence before finally saying:

"How did you knock?"

"What is the freaking problem over hear," Shake shouted in a pissy voice as he entered the doorway and glared at the bush. "Look we don't want any. Any reading material you give me, I'm just going to spit on and then burn. Okay?"

Realizing he didn't really know what he was looking at, he looked at Frylock.

"What the hell is that?"

"Oh, I'm the burning bush," answered the bush. "People do my bidding."

"Really?" replied Shake, now very interested. "Like anything you say, people have to do it?"

Meatwad then joined the rest of the group in the doorway, a smile on his one-toothed lips.

"Can you make that guy at the pet store give me a free puppy?"

"No, will you shut up? No ones' talking to you," barked Shake. "And besides, that's a stupid idea. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Brimming with professionalism, Shake turned to the bush.

"Make the guy who owns the pet store give ME a free puppy. Then I want to be president of the universe."

"Okay," said the bush after a small pause.

Shake's surprise was evident.

"Really?"

"Yeah, but it might take a while. I mean there's a lot of red tape to go through. And you need to get all these approvals."

"Dammit," exclaimed the milkshake.

"Say," began the bush. "In the mean time, do you think you guys could like do my bidding or whatever?"

"Oh well, we aren't really big into doing people's bidding," said Frylock.

"I am," said Meatwad innocently.

Surprise, surprise there was another pause.

"Yeah," said Frylock, slowly. "Yeah, I guess you are."

* * *

"Okay, do you have the popsicle sticks?" Asked the bush while sitting on the floor of Meatwad's room.

"Check," said Meatwad, looking at a few used popsicle sticks.

"The dictionary, the pens, the rubber ball?"

"Yeah, yeah everything's here. Now what?"

"Alright. Now I want you to KILL THE FIRST BORN OF EVERY HOUSEHOLD," demanded the bush menacingly.

Meatwad widened his eyes in shock.

"That's…that's not exactly what I expected."

* * *

"Frylock, come in here," shouted Shake walking through the front door into the living room, holding a canister if gasoline.

"What are you doing, Shake?" demanded Frylock, coming from the kitchen.

"I'm about to cut out the middle man and go right to being supreme ruler of the megaverse," the milk shake declared. "Watch."

Immediately, Shake doused himself in gasoline and set himself ablaze with a lighted match.

"NOW- OH GOD THAT HURTS SO BAD –NOW THAT I HAVE THE DIVINE POWER COURSING THROUGH ME, I COMMAND YOU TO…TO…OH GOD SOMEBODY HELP.

Screaming in agony, Shake dashed out the front door and made a beeline straight for Carl's pool.

* * *

"Look if there's one thing this experience has taught me, it's that power corrupts," said Shake as he lay in a hospital bed, wrapped from lid to cup in bandages, Frylock at his side. "Would I take it all back if I could? Probably. I miss being able to move."

Just then, the burning bush entered the room accompanied by a thoroughly traumatized looking Meatwad.

"Hey," said the bush. "Sorry to hear about what happened. I hope you get better soon, buddy."

"Yes, better soon," droned Meatwad, his eyes wide and sorrowful.

"Well come on, Meatwad," said the bush. "Let's go check out the maternity ward."

With his eyes growing even wider and his lip quivering, Meatwad followed the bush out of the hospital room into the hall.

"I'm moving out," proclaimed Frylock after another pause. "I'm sick of this bull."


End file.
